Hans Lahlum - The Human Flies

I gave her a hard and threatening stare, but was met only with pleading, terrified eyes.

‘Do you have any idea who he was?’

Sara shook her head in distress.

‘Until now I have thought…’

She looked down and fell silent. I had to cough a couple of times before she continued.

‘Well, the legs were definitely a man’s legs. He was about as tall as me, but it was not possible to see much more because of the raincoat and hood and scarf. At first, I thought he was a stranger who had come from outside, but then you came and said that the murderer must have come from inside the building. And that scared me even more. Konrad Jensen was too short, Darrell Williams too tall, and Andreas Gullestad cannot walk. So that meant there was no one it could possibly be other than Kristian, who had returned in disguise so he would not be recognized.’

The argument was reasonable enough, unless of course the nephew or someone else had managed to get in from outside. But I no longer dared to take anything as given in this case.

‘Could it perhaps have been Konrad Jensen in high boots or something similar?’

She shook her head again.

‘No, no. There was something to indicate that he came from inside. The man in the raincoat was not wearing shoes – he only had black socks on his feet.’

Silence fell in the room. Sara was trembling, which was not hard to understand given what she had told us about her experience, and now I instinctively put my arm round her. She immediately leaned against me, warm and trusting, and seemed to calm down a bit. But the bliss only lasted for a second or two before Patricia’s voice filled the room for the first time. I quickly came to myself and instinctively stepped away from Sara’s dangerously warm and soft body.

‘Was there anything else about this man that was alarming?’

Sara stared straight ahead and nodded several times, gratefully.

‘Yes. The man in the raincoat was light as a feather and danced more than walked – like a cat or a boxer. He seemed to glide down the corridor. It made me think about Deerfoot. But as he did not live in the building, the only possible explanation that I could find was that it was Kristian who was walking like that on purpose so he would not be recognized.’

‘Eureka!’

This outburst was completely unexpected and hung in the air for a moment. Sara and I looked at each other, bewildered. The next thing we heard was Patricia hitting the pad with her pen again and again, as if the pen were a drumstick.

‘Brilliant – that is just what we needed! You are obviously innocent. The man in the blue raincoat shot Harald Olesen shortly after you saw him. And I know where to find him!’

At first, Sara looked like she might float up and away. And then she did – and landed beaming with her arms round my neck. I could hear some clucking sounds in the background, which meant that Patricia was enjoying the spectacle. The chuckling stopped mysteriously as soon as Sara came to her senses and sheepishly lowered her feet to the floor again.

I have to admit that my first thought was that it was Kristian Lund who was going to be arrested, after all. My second thought was that I did not object to that in any way. However, Patricia’s next words quickly put an end to that theory.

‘So, now we can finally go and meet this Mr Deerfoot. And if you would like to meet him too, Sara, please join us.’

Sara looked at me and then gave me a quick hug when I said that of course she could come. We all rushed out in convoy to the lift.

‘Are we going down to the ground floor, then?’ I asked.

Patricia nodded quickly and Sara looked as if she would follow us to the ends of the earth without protesting.

When the lift door opened, we were met with a delightful scene. Darrell Williams and Cecilia Olesen were sitting opposite each other talking as if they would never stop. The caretaker’s wife had discreetly retired, and Joachim Olesen was looking pointedly out of the window. Darrell Williams was unrecognizable. Suddenly, he was the world’s most amusing and charming man, even from a distance. Just as we emerged, he leaned forward and kissed her tenderly on the mouth. Patricia clucked contentedly again and pulled at my hand.

‘It really was a good idea to get the niece and nephew to come here too,’ she said, with a smile.

When I started to move towards them, she held me back firmly by the hand.

‘Wait a while – we can talk to them later. Don’t disturb their bliss. Let us rather pay a visit to the one neighbour I have not yet met.’

It was in fact Joachim Olesen whom I had expected to talk to, but I quickly gave this up as Patricia was pointing eagerly at the first door on the right.

Andreas Gullestad opened the door with his usual jovial smile and immediately invited all three of us in. He accepted my explanation of Patricia in the wheelchair without question and added with self-irony that it was good to meet a wheelchair user who still wanted to contribute to society. I caught a wry smile passing between them.

While Gullestad went out into the kitchen to get some cups and to make coffee, I installed Patricia by the door. Sara and I sat down by the table in the living room. Our host came in again from the kitchen with the coffee and poured us all a cup. I was still impatient to prove my theory that Joachim Olesen was Deerfoot and could not understand what new information Patricia expected to find here.

It was only when Andreas Gullestad had settled and then asked what he could help me with today that I suddenly realized that something was wrong – very wrong indeed.

It came quite literally in a flash, when the ceiling light caught something silver that our host was wearing round his neck.

Either he had not been wearing the necklace on previous visits or I had simply not noticed. I sat there staring at the pendant as if hypnotized. Andreas Gullestad, meanwhile, looked annoyingly relaxed and not in the slightest bit threatening as he sat there in his wheelchair.

‘I am afraid that I have a number of difficult questions to ask you today…’

Andreas Gullestad looked up at me in surprise, and his face stiffened. But he replied, with a friendly smile, that he would do his best to help me – whether the questions were difficult or not.

‘Do you still maintain that the name Deerfoot is unknown to you?’

If I had hoped for some kind of breakthrough, I was disappointed. Andreas Gullestad furrowed his brows. He did not blink, and his voice was just as friendly.

‘I am afraid I am going to have to disappoint you again there. I may perhaps have heard about this person by another name, but the description you have given me so far is still a bit hazy. Do you have any more details that might jog my memory?’

I was more than happy to provide these.

‘Deerfoot was a young guide who helped Harald Olesen when he had to cross the border into Sweden during the war. They made several trips together, the last of which was in February 1944 and ended in tragedy in the mountains between Trysil and Sälen. Not only were three German soldiers killed, but also two Jewish refugees. Deerfoot heroically skied over the mountains with their baby under his anorak and thereby managed to save her life. Does that ring any bells?’

Andreas Gullestad shook his head firmly.

‘No, I am afraid I do still maintain that this Deerfoot is unknown to me. I grew up not so far from there and heard many credible and incredible stories about what went on in the area. I cannot guarantee that I still remember them all, but I would have remembered that one if I had heard it. Do you have any questions from the more recent past that I might be able to answer?’